


Piece By Piece

by felisblanco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-07
Updated: 2007-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2.01-2.02 Impala angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piece By Piece

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**winchestergirl**](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/) asked for a drabble based on this icon.  
> [](http://pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/pic/0002wqqg/)
> 
> Well, since it was her birthday a few days ago, and I couldn't really say all that was needed in only 100 words, she gets a ficlet. Here you go, sweetie. Hope you like.

Sammy never cared much for cars, especially the Impala. All it ever did was take him away from his friends, from school, and right into another damn hunt. The quickest way to cut Dean was to dis the car (or mom but not even Sam would go there) and Sammy knew just the right words to make the hurt come out in his brother’s eyes. Never felt like victory but it beat being miserable on his own.

So when he found himself applying for a part-time job at a garage near campus he wondered what the hell had gotten into him. Until the smell of oil and rubber and leather filled his nostrils and he realized he missed the Impala almost as much as he missed Dean. He might have resented her but she was still the closest thing to home.

Five years later he watched Dean disappear under the wreckage of their girl, oil and sweat glimmering on his skin as he worked to loosen yet another bolt and the grief hit him suddenly so hard he had to steady himself on the red-painted roof.

All he had left was this. A dented car and Dean. And frankly, he had more hopes for saving the Impala than his brother’s shattered heart. A growled curse brought him back from his brooding, Dean’s leg kicking the right back tire in frustration. With a deep breath Sam pulled off his shirt and threw it aside.

“Let me help.”

“Not letting you fuck with my car, Sam.” The voice was flat. Cold. “You’ll turn her into a Winnibego or something.”

Sam clenched his jaw then put on a bored face. “You need a new gearshift. And the brakes are fucked up but I think I can fix them. I know a guy in Palo Alto who does up classics and he said he can get us new doors cheap. I saw an engine on Ebay that doesn’t cost too much either. And, by the way, you put the wrong tires on front.”

There was a long pause and then Dean rolled from under the car and stared up at him. “How the hell do you know all this shit?”

Sam shrugged. “You’re not the only one who knows cars, Dean.”

They gazed at each other in silence. Then Dean nodded his head in direction of the toolbox. “Hand me that wrench. And if you fuck up the brakes, I’ll kill you.”

Sam held back the smile until Dean was once again under the car, humming Back in Black under his breath.

Many hours later Sam stood in front of the small mirror in the bathroom, staring into it tiredly. He had dirt smudged on his cheek, a line of oil on his forehead and dust sticking to the still raw bruise around his eye. Sweat and grime painted his upper body. Every inch of muscle hurt.

The door opened and he met Dean’s eyes in the mirror. They stood still for a moment and then Dean stepped in, closing the door behind him. Sam held his breath, not daring to turn around. Dean’s hands trembled slightly as they settled on Sam’s hips and Sam watched Dean close his eyes before he disappeared out of view, forehead resting between Sam’s shoulder blades. Dean shuddered and Sam risked covering one of Dean’s hands with his palm. “You alright?”

“You smell like dad. You know, before…When we lived in Lawrence.” Dean suddenly let him go and stepped back, leaving a cold spot where his warm breath had penetrated Sam’s sweat-drenched wifebeater. “Gonna take a shower.”

Sam swallowed, eyes fixated on Dean’s lowered head in the mirror. “Want company?”

Dean stilled, one hand clenching the dirty material on the shoulder of his t-shirt, ready to pull it off. Sam’s heart beat fast in his chest as everything else seemed to freeze. Then finally Dean said, “Yeah, okay,” and the shirt was over his head and on the floor in one sweeping motion as if it was just another day in just another motel room.

Sam let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a second before following suite, his dirty clothes joining Dean’s on the floor. 


End file.
